


Secret Hideout

by ladypigswagon



Series: Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College AU, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:25:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypigswagon/pseuds/ladypigswagon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words are swimming in front of Stiles eyes. He can no longer distinguish individual letters and is about 95% sure he’s about to have an aneurysm. He slams the textbook shut, much to the chagrin of his fellow library patrons. Stiles ignores the judgmental and/or disappointed stares. He cannot be bothered to even pretend to care at this point; his head is pounding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Hideout

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked: I accidentally stumbled upon your makeshift hideout on school grounds let me nap here and I won’t say a word. - Peter/stiles

Words are swimming in front of Stiles eyes. He can no longer distinguish individual letters and is about 95% sure he’s about to have an aneurysm. He slams the textbook shut, much to the chagrin of his fellow library patrons. Stiles ignores the judgmental and/or disappointed stares. He cannot be bothered to even pretend to care at this point; his head is pounding.

He leaves the stuffy campus library and doesn’t put the textbook back. Deliberately. Stiles knew college wouldn’t be easy, knew he’d have to work hard but he didn’t count on what feels like an endless headache. He’s probably going to die due to stress. Keel over right here into the dismal patch of begonias. It’s not very classy but Stiles is so tired that he’s actually beyond caring.

The sun is bright overhead, Stiles has to shade his eyes to see. He shrugs off his plaid shirt, tying it round his waist. The campus quad outside the library is littered with students doing numerous activities from studying to an intense game of ultimate Frisbee to what appears to be a beyblade battle next to the fountain. It’s noisy and chaotic, which only adds to Stiles headache.

Theoretically he could go back to the dorm room but it’s more than likely that Scott has put a sock on the door. Ever since Scott met Kira, Stiles has been sexiled to the library more often than not. Stiles loves them both, they’re good friends but they fuck like rabbits. Stiles is pretty sure that Scott has dipped in Stiles stash of condoms. Stiles would be mad but at least someone is using them.

 

Stiles needs quiet. He needs calm. So he heads for the woods that border the campus grounds.

 

It’s a trek from the main campus so Stiles knows that his lazy classmates will not venture here. The towering trees offer shade from the beating Sun. Being beneath them instantly cools Stiles down and he revels in that feeling. Stiles wanders a bit deeper, enjoying the fact that the dense trees act as sound barriers, cutting off any noise from campus. Gone are the shrieks of students and clashing notes from several speakers all playing different genres of music. Stiles appreciates a bit of Taylor Swift but not when she’s competing with Macklemore and Fall Out Boy to be heard.

The only sounds within the forest are that of the wind rushing through the leaves, the gentle burble of a stream nearby and the occasional birdcall. Stiles can feel his headache draining away. He heads towards the sound of the stream, hoping he can stick his feet in it. He toes off his sneakers and socks. The mossy ground is feather soft beneath his bare feet.

The stream turns out to be a small waterfall over a pond. Stiles dumps his bag, rolls his jeans up to his knees and is about to wade in but stops. Stops because he notices a tent. A tent pitched up beside the pond, complete with pinstriped deck chair and small inactive camping stove. Which makes zero sense.

Stiles pauses, observing the tent with intense curiosity and mild apprehension. He takes a few steps forward, trying to gage whether the tent is occupied. Because Stiles is a curious being by nature, he walks right up to the tent, ignoring the niggling voice in the back of his head that is suggesting that this whole set up is possibly going to end badly.

The tent door is open. Stiles peers inside. It is occupied. By a really attractive guy in a white V-neck who is very muscular and could probably snap Stiles in half. Blue eyes observe Stiles amber ones, head tilted sideways in confusion.

“Can I help you?” The guy asks. Stiles stumbles backwards, spluttering apologies. The guy follows, exiting the tent and standing before Stiles. They’re about the same height but Stiles should not be focusing on that because he’s about to get pummelled.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to intrude, just looking for a place to kip,” Stiles stammers, rubbing the back of his neck, “You know how college is. One exam to the next or whatever. Or I assume you know how college is. If you’re homeless I’m so sorry.”

“Do I look homeless?” The guy inquires, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

“No. Sorry. Anyway I won’t tell anyone about this makeshift hideout. Not a soul, I swear. Appreciate you want your privacy so um please don’t kill me,” Stiles voice goes unusually high towards the end of his rambling. The guy smirks, eyes flicking around Stiles body as if he’s being judged.

“You’re that first year criminology student that’s always in the library,” the guy says.

“Um.. yes,” Stiles replies, unsure of where the conversation is going, “I’m Stiles, Stiles Stilinski.”

“Peter Hale,” The guy says, “Third year law. So Stiles, care to join me?” Peter gestures towards the tent, eyes bright.

“Yeah,” Stiles replies, “Wait what? Why?”

“You said you needed a place to ‘kip’,” Peter says. Stiles is starting to feel like a deer in the headlights. Because yes, objectively Peter is hot. Really hot. Hot as burning. Stiles is awkwardly cute at best.

“Please Stiles,” Peter says, his voice husky, “I’d like to get to know you a little better.”

“Do you watch me in the library? Because if you’ve been stalking me and this is your secret hideout where you plan to kill me then I may have to decline, no matter how attractive you are,” Stiles asks, crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly to the left. Peter laughs, eyes crinkling in a way that Stiles finds adorable.

“I promise to behave,” Peter says, his tone indicating otherwise, “Though it’s always nice to know someone as delectable as yourself finds me attractive.”

Stiles jaw drops in indignation then abruptly closes when he realizes that yes, he did very much say that. 911, emergency, Stiles needs an ambulance to whisk him away from this impending car crash. Peter looks smug. Stiles is more than likely an violent shade of crimson and that’s not from the California sunshine.

“I have cold beer,” Peter says, nudging a cool box with his foot. Stiles sighs, goes to retrieve his bag before clambering into the tent. Peter follows eagerly. Inside is full of multicolored pillows of varying sizes. Stiles runs his fingertips over them, skin tingling from the satin feeling beneath. He takes the offered beer, lounging back into the softness.

“So Peter,” Stiles says, attempting to retrieve any dignity he has left, “Are you watching me in the library?”

“Sometimes,” Peter replies loftily, “I’ve attempted to start conversations but you are always absorbed in your textbooks and papers, so I’ve just watched from afar. Studious little thing aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be if I didn’t get sexiled practically every day,” Stiles grumbles, taking a swig from his beer.

“Not doing any sexiling of your own?” Peter enquires. Stiles raises an eyebrow, gesturing to himself 

“Does it look like this gets much action?”

“I would have thought so, you’re very attractive Stiles.”

Stiles snorts. Peter puts his beer down outside the tent.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Let’s just say that my track record indicates otherwise,” Stiles says, taking another swig before placing the beer outside. He lies back into the pillows, feeling warm and fuzzy. “These are so soft.”

“Feel free to have a nap Stiles,” Peter says, lying on his side so that their heads are level with each other. “I was planning to anyway.”

“Promise not to creep on me in my sleep,” Stiles says, waggling a warning finger playfully.

“I promise.”

“Alright then.” 

Stiles falls asleep to the sound of birds overhead and the gentle splash of the waterfall.

 

When he wakes up, the sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows all around. Stiles is also lying on Peter’s chest, Peter’s arm curled around his waist possessively.  Stiles attempts to get away but Peter clutches him tighter, making a soft rumbling sound that could be a growl.

“Peter let go,” Stiles huffs. Peter does not comply, instead rolling them over so that Stiles is aggressively spooned. “Peter!" 

“Sleep Stiles,” Peter murmurs into Stiles ear, “I promise dinner and a movie later.” 

“I’m picking the movie,” Stiles retorts. Peter chuckles softly, nuzzling Stiles neck. Stiles drifts off again, soothed by Peter’s hand rubbing gentle circles on his stomach.


End file.
